


Alienated

by orphan_account



Series: Frerard Oneshots [11]
Category: Frank Iero and the Patience, LeATHERMØUTH, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Basement Gerard Way, Future Fic, Hullen (Killjoys), Human Experimentation, M/M, One Shot, Teen Frank Iero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23015698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Specimen 10-31, a.k.a Frank Iero, has been under goverment control for over three years and has lost hope of freedom from BL/Ind's clutches. He finds his escape with an unlikely partner, a whirlwind of a rebel, Gerard Way.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Frerard Oneshots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516007
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Alienated

Bone-chilling cold swept through the pure white space. The room appeared to be endless, and non-existent at the same moment. In reality, it was quite a small space, the test tube barely large enough to fit the subject's small body. 

Specimen 10-31, as he was referred to, was unconscious but acutely aware of his surroundings. His mind was awake, but his body pulled him into sleep, the fluothane spreading throughout his weak lungs in a continuous torturous stream, keeping him just below waking.

The tube was about five and a half feet tall, and half that size in width. The glass was always cold, the specimen was never comfortably warm. It seemed that the lab scientists intended to keep him as uncomfortable as possible.

It had been nearly three years since the beginning of the experiment, but 10-31 didn't know that. He had no idea how long he'd been trapped in this glass prison against his weak will. He couldn't remember his life before the glass, couldn't remember his name, his family, any existence of a lover. 

10-31 was dressed simply in a white collared shirt and black pants. He didn't know about the black pants, as his neck was in a vice-like grip, forcing his head up and his eyesight only for the brutal stark white of the ceiling. 

His hair was a beautiful chestnut brown, but he didn't know that either. 

He couldn't remember sound either, as his voice was gone. He had tried to speak, but he could never make a noise. 

~

Something pierced through the haze, an ear-splitting crash. 

10-31 jerked in his harness, eyes snapping open, the fluothane suddenly gone from his lungs. He struggled against the choking brace wrapped cruelly around his throat, trying to see what had made the noise. 10-31 became animalistic, finally having found his voice to scream, the sound coming out raspy and broken. He kicked out as hard as possible at the glass that he could feel freezing his fingers, the blow glancing and weak. Months of chemically-induced sleep had affected his once flourishing form, reducing him to a starving and weak husk of the man he used to be. 

10-31 felt the pressure be lifted from his neck, but not until a sharp aching pain entered his vein where the vice had once been. He felt a flash in his vision, a picture of a needle filled with ink piercing his arm.

Soon enough, a crash was heard again and this time, small fragments of his prison rained down on him. The glass was broken, the sharp pain retracted and the harness was released, his limp form collapsing face-first into the shards of glass.

"Get up, come on kid!" A voice yelled, loud and commanding. 10-31 couldn't understand what was being said but he got the general message. He pushed himself up with more than a little effort, wildly looking around for the voice. 

A man stood in front of him, a collection of violent colours adorned proudly. 

Vibrant blood coloured hair, bright and hard hazel eyes. 

Black clothes from head to toe, a brown bottle that 10-31 couldn't identify. 

"Don't just stare, let's go!" He insisted, grabbing 10-31's arm and pulling him along, the specimen stumbling along.

The pair ran through the halls of the labs, their footsteps light snd quick as they broke through doors, searching for an exit. 10-31 wiped away a stream of blood from his forehead, the large wound stinging like hell.

"Through here," The man said, his voice much more tempered as he shoved 10-31 through the large door rather unceremoniously. 10-31 caught his elbow on the doorframe, wincing as he ran alongside the man through the streets.

He squinted through the blinding sunlight and colours assaulting his senses after so long. His feet ached from running, but he only ran harder as shouts began anew behind them.

He had never experienced this wild run for his life before, adrenaline pulsing through him like wildfire.

Sparks flew on the walls of the alley they were sprinting down, objects flying at them at incredible velocities. 10-31 pushed harder than he thought possible, clinging to the hand of the man who'd presumably saved him from that glass prison.

The man yanked on 10-31's hand, taking a sharp turn into an abandoned building, nearly toppling on his face when jumping up the stairs.

The red-haired mystery slammed the heavy doors behind them, slotting brooms through the handles just in case. 10-31 rushed to the rusted windows to watch the lab coats and police uniforms look around for them. 10-31 sat on the sill, in awe of the colours he could now perceive.

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing him to jump, hitting out in shock.

"Calm down, it's just me," The man reassured 10-31, smiling cautiously. His hazel eyes travelled from his toes to the wound on top of his head, which was still flowing. "You're hurt." 

"Yes," 10-31 answered, finally starting to understand the language the man was speaking. "Hurts." 10-31 could only speak in broken sentences, his time in isolation had affected his communication.

"I have bandages, don't worry," The man soothed, pulling a roll of medical bandages from the black satchel that 10-31 hadn't noticed before. Gently, he ran a hand through 10-31's hair to push it out of the way, pressing the bandage to the wound softly. He wrapped it around the specimen's head, tying it at the back.

"Thank you," 10-31 forced out, his throat tight from screaming. 

"It's no problem," The man said with a slight laugh, stuffing the medical stuff away. "Did you have a name?" 10-31 opened his mouth to speak... but hesitated. He only knew his number, not his real name. It made him sad. 

"Specimen 10-31," He answered, frowning, trying desperately to remember. The man frowned as well.

"Do you not remember who you are?" He asked brazenly, genuinely shocked. "They fucked your mind real good, didn't they?" He shook his head, digging through his satchel again for a moment and pulling out a thick folder. 

"What that?" 10-31 asked, cringing at his weak voice. He was smart and aware of his own slurred, broken speaking, but he was still inebriated by the fluothane traces. 

"Your file, I hope," The man murmured, flicking through the pages and looking up at 10-31 in elongated periods between reading. "Yes, this is your number and picture." The man showed 10-31 the front page, a large colour picture of a beautiful man's face dominating the paper. 

"Me?" 10-31 inquired, unable to believe that this was his face.

"Yes," The man answered quickly, skimming the pages and visibly becoming increasingly worried. 

"Your name?" 10-31 pressed, the silence troubling him. 

"I'm Gerard and your name is Frank," The man answered again, smiling up at 10-31 and seeing his shocked face.

"Frank?" He tried out, he liked how it sounded. It was _his..._!

"Yeah...?" Gerard sighed, uncapping the brown bottle he was clutching and taking a long drink, obviously savouring whatever was in the bottle. Frank sniffed slightly in the air and then coughed. The stench coming from the bottle was strong and choking, the smell making Frank's nose wrinkle in distaste.

"What is that?" He inquired curiously, causing Gerard to turn to face him in equal confusion.

"Beer?" He scoffed. "How could you not know what alcohol is?"

"Can't remember anything," Frank snapped. Gerard's mocking expression dropped and a guilty one replaced it, his hand moving uneasily.

"Sorry," He muttered, setting down the bottle and sitting next to the boy. Paging through the file again, Gerard began to help Frank through his memories, listing off the contents of it.

"You grew up in Belleville, very close to here," Gerard explained, eyes moving smoothly over the inked words. "We're in Kearny right now, and you're now nineteen years old, and were sixteen as of the beginning of the experiment."

"Nineteen?" Frank said incredulously, rubbing at the tattoos on his skin. "Thought I was older."

"Nope, you're still a teenager," Gerard muttered, something on the pages catching his eye. "Look at this... apparently they were testing a drug on you, called ' _halothane N01AB01'_ ."

"It's anesthetic, keeps me asleep," Frank interjected, but Gerard held up a hand.

"' _The gross monthly production of halothane N01AB01 is averaged at ninety million kilograms_ ,'" Gerard continued to read. He looked up at Frank with a look of shock, the teenager's expression identical to that of Gerard's. "That's enough to drug an entire country if the government is stashing it for later."

"Oh," Frank intoned, lost for words. "Could be for surgeries and things?" He tried weakly, Gerard shaking his head worriedly.

"No, there's way too much being mass-produced." He said. 

"Hey, they're up there!" A voice shouted from the ground. Frank whipped his head to catch the eyes of a police officer, clad in stark white and holding a gun, aiming it at the window. Without thinking, Frank yanked on Gerard's arm hard enough to send the pair toppling to the ground just as a bullet whizzed past their heads.

"On that cue, let's hit the road, Frankie!" Gerard yelped, pulling them to their feet and bolting for the hallway, shoving the barricades out of the way and jumping up the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Frank yelled as they reached the top stairwell, echoing shouts resonating from far below them.

"The roof, we can lose them from there," Gerard said back, shoving the roof access door open with his shoulder and grinning maniacally at the former specimen. "Just gotta trust me on this one." The redhead locked the access behind them and tightened his grip on Frank's wrist. 

"Keep running, whatever you do... don't stop," Gerard ordered seriously. Frank only had time to nod before he was pulled across the roof, sprinting alongside Gerard. The edge hurtled towards them, a looming void between the next roof and certain death via pavement. 

"Gerard!" Frank cried just before his feet left the floor, suspended between the void. His body was pulled forwards by Gerard's momentum from his jump and the pair managed to land on their feet, by some convoluted miracle.

"We've got quite a few more, so don't slow down!" Gerard shouted over the rushing wind pushing them back.

After the first jump, the next ones came easier, the thrill becoming more fun than terror. 

"Fuck!" Frank screamed, his foot slipping on the ledge as he jumped and Gerard's hand ripped from his wrist. His body flew through the gap, his torso landing on the next building while his legs dangled helplessly, kicking at the brick. He scrambled to hold on to the ledge, screaming through clenched teeth from the pain in his ribs.

"Gerard!" He yelled, vision blurred. A strong hand wrapped around his arm, yanking him up fully, Frank's arms scraping painfully on the gravel roof. 

"Can't stop, come on!" Gerard urged, careful to grab Frank's uninjured arm. Frank pushed himself up with a groan, spurred on by Gerard's gentle encouragements and the sounds of pursuit.

The runaways managed to outrun the police for the time being after about four blocks of roof hopping. Lying on his back and staring at the sunset, Frank caught his breath, sucking in the pollutant laced air of downtown Kearny. 

"My arm hurts," He whined, turning his head to look at Gerard, who was grinning at him.

"Maybe you should've been more careful on that ledge then, idiot," He chuckled. 

Frank felt a certain spark in his chest at the teasing nature of Gerard's comments. He felt free for the first time in three years. 


End file.
